


This Fragrant Skin

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Lovers in a Dangerous Time [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Booty Calls, F/M, Floor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, sharon carter appreciation month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6172342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Steven Rogers, are you insinuating I'm the kind of girl who presents herself at a man's apartment solely for a night of pleasure?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Fragrant Skin

**Author's Note:**

> We're not entirely sure where this falls in the timeline. Probably right before the events of Ultron, or thereabouts.

Getting ahead in the CIA required a lot of sacrifices. Late nights, last minutes trips. You had to be willing to go above and beyond what was expected in order to stand out and get your name recognized.

 And sometimes you got stuck at a table in an un-air conditioned restaurant with a half a dozen loud, ego driven men, eating overpriced sushi and bottom shelf sake and wishing for some sort of national crisis to save you.

Sharon had thought the training session in New York had been a good idea. Shake some hands learn some new techniques. Her supervisor had been totally on board. She just hadn't taken into account how very little she wanted to bond with some of her coworkers.

They started talking about some new model of car or something and she gazed out the window. Avengers Tower glowed in the distance, probably only a few minutes walk. 

Before she could overthink, she pulled her phone out, scrolled through her contacts and sent a text. _Are you home?_

The reply was pretty quick. _I feel I should lie for the sake of my dignity, but yes._

Truly, there were still miracles in life. _I'm at dinner with a bunch of half-drunk, boring coworkers. How would you feel about a visitor?_

_Depends, are YOU drunk?_

She glanced at her sake cup and replied honestly, _No, but I'd let you ply me with something, if that's your thing._

_I can't get drunk. Just checking you had full faculties. Call me when you get to the lobby._

Doing everything she could to hide her grin, she tucked her phone away and dug out a few dollars to cover her food. "Sorry to bail early, turns out an old friend is in town and wants to meet up." 

This was met with a few half hearted goodbyes and "Sorry to see you go"s and then she was free, strolling down the street on a warm New York evening. The walk to the Tower was even less than she'd expected and she pulled her phone out and dialed Steve's number.

"Hello, Sharon," he answered with, warmth in his voice.

"Hello," she replied. "Can I come up or do you want me to start testing the security defenses?"

He chuckled. "You'll want the last elevator on the left, the one marked with an 'A'. JARVIS will open it for you."

"Got it." She strolled down the row of elevators like she got to go up to the private Avenger floors every week. The one at the end, with the red, stylized A opened as she reached it and she stepped inside.

"Welcome, Agent Carter," said the disembodied voice in the ceiling.

"Thank you, JARVIS."

It had no buttons, and simply zoomed upwards. The door opened, and JARVIS said, "The path to Captain Rogers's apartment is illuminated." Sure enough, there were gently moving lights running along the wall.

"Thank you," she repeated, stepping into the hallway. It was lined with plush burgundy carpet and her feet made no sound as she followed the lights past three doors and knocked on the one indicated. 

It slid open, and Steve was on the other side. She'd seen him in his uniform, she'd seen him in a suit, she'd seen him in various carefully-styled casual outfits in the media. She'd even seen him in gym wear—that he liked to work out in a tech-fabric shirt that looked spray painted on was well known at SHIELD. She wasn't sure why she found this particular outfit of flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt so hot.

She smiled and resisted the urge to simply tackle him as she came in the door. "Well, hello there." He moved aside for her to slide into the apartment. "Clearly I interrupted some exciting plans."

"I'm working on my movie list." He hooked his thumb at the TV, which had been paused on the image of Gandalf on a white horse.

"Lord of the Rings. Excellent choice. How far along are you?"

"Helms Deep. I can finish later, I have read the book."

"You can finish the battle," she offered. She wasn't entirely sure how to segue a high fantasy siege into a booty call. But it _was_ an exciting scene.

He reached out for her hand. "It can wait," he said, his voice firmer. It sounded almost like an order in the field. That was the thing about Steve. He could be kind and comfortable and the sort of man you'd take home to your mother. . .and still not be someone you'd want to meet in a dark alley.

Their previous trysts had been fast and intense. Fueled by high emotion and need. She had had a moment of concern that the same magic wouldn't be there if she just strolled into his apartment on a lazy Saturday evening. That his tone could send heat through her, just by going a little deeper and firmer, reassured her.

She squeezed his hand and stepped closer. "Did you have other plans in mind?"

"It's what you came here for, isn't it? Midnight visit." He tugged on her hand and pulled her close enough to bump his chest, and then his arms slid around her. "I'll be really disappointed if you just wanted to play cards or something."

"Steven Rogers, are you insinuating I'm the kind of girl who presents herself at a man's apartment solely for a night of pleasure?"

He tipped her chin up. "You started it."

She slid her hands under her shirt, spreading them on his back. "You better finish it."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his voice so low it was practically a rumble. Then he bent his head more and kissed her. Just like the first time, fireworks went off. She shuddered and he seemed to take that as an invitation, deepening the kiss. He cupped the back over her head and tilted it more, holding her where he wanted it. She did love when he got handsy and bossy, so she sank into it, opening up to him.

He found the zipper of her dress and pulled it all the way down, getting the fabric off her shoulders without breaking the kiss. She dropped her arms and it slid to the floor. "Better," he murmured against her mouth.

"Mmm-hmm." Another kiss, just as hot and intense. This one broke only so she could pull his shirt up over his head. 

No matter how many times she saw him shirtless, it never ceased to amaze her. He was just perfect. A piece of art carved from marble. She ran her fingers down his chest, racing the lines of muscle. He shivered at the touch, muscles moving under her fingertips. He watched her and there was no ego in him at this. Any man built like he was spent an enormous amount of time in the gym, cultivating their bodies. They liked to show off, and expected you to be impressed. Steve, on the other hand, was never quite fully comfortable with his beauty.

It made a girl want to spoil him. Prove how very sexy she found him. Continuing her path down, she cupped her hand over the growing bulge in his flannels. His eyes closed briefly and she took the opportunity to tug the elastic waistband down, revealing his half-hard erection. Which, really, was just as perfect as the rest of him.

Holding his gaze, she sank down to her knees and curled one hand around his length. She kept her eyes on his as she stroked him, and even as she leaned forward and licked the broad head of his cock. He made a desperate, involuntary noise, and plunged his fingers into her hair. He tugged a little, but not so tight it hurt, and she took him in her mouth.

She loved this, loved his reaction to it. He was so contained, even during sex. He liked to focus on her, pour himself into her pleasure. Having it be entirely about him seemed to throw him off, wind him up far more than other men. And far be it from Sharon not to show off a little. She took him as deep as she could, sucking hard, then started to rock on him. His hands tightened and loosened in her hair and she could almost sense how much he wanted to guide and control her pace.

Looking up to make sure he was watching, she slid a hand over her flat stomach and into the black cotton bikini bottoms she was wearing. She was already slick and swollen, just from this.

"You. . .Are. . .I can. . ." He mumbled inarticulately through gasping breaths, and then seemed to give up trying to talk straight. "Fuck."

She released him, giving him a long lick. "I know you can come and be fucking me again in ten minutes." A hard suck on the head. "So be a little selfish and come for me." Her fingertips glanced her clit and she shivered. "Then show me how grateful you are." With that, she took him again, deep as she could and worked him twice as hard.

He tugged her hair hair and this time it did hurt, just a little. Then he ground out, "Five," just before he shuddered and let go. She stilled, holding him right where he was as he released into her mouth. She watched his face as he did, enjoying the look of utter bliss, the way the tendons in his neck corded with tension.

When it was done she released him with a little kiss to his tip before rocking back on her heels, hand still lazily stroking her sex. His knees gave and he dropped, kneeling in front of her and trying to catch his breath. Then he leaned forward and kisser her hard. She sank her free hand into his hair and arched into him. His skin was warmer now and the kiss rougher with his control stripped away. He tumbled her onto her back on the rug, and began kissing his way down her body. "Gratitude, eh?" he murmured.

"Tit for tat?" she teased as he tugged her hand and underwear out of his way, feathering kisses across her stomach.

He pushed her legs apart, and just the cool air on her sex made her clench. "This is what you want." A statement, not a question.

"Yes," she answered anyway, watching him. He stroked his fingers over her for a moment, coating them with her moisture. He had great hands. He didn't scar, but his skin still built calluses for protection, and years of throwing that shield around had given him plenty. Despite the bare handful of times they'd been together, he knew her very well. His fingers swirled around her clit, the barest of touches, before sliding down along her folds. It was so good yet not nearly enough and she groaned, hips lifting as if to encourage him.

"You have no patience," he told her, and for a moment she thought he was just going to torture her for a while. Then he stretched out in a smooth motion that would have been impossible for someone with weaker abs, and _finally_ put his damn mouth on her.

"Oh." The sound was thin and breathy, part surprise, part arousal. His mouth was hot and seemed to touch everywhere at once, sucking, licking. She felt the pressure of teeth and bucked, forcing him to grip her hips and hold her still. That made it all the more intense.

She sunk her fingers into his hair, stroking and petting. "This is what I wanted," she whispered. "You licking me, driving me wild. Desperate and begging to come." That Captain America liked dirty talk was information that probably would have been worth a lot of money to the right person.

For the moment, she used it to her advantage—at least as long as she could form thoughts. The more she wound him up, the better the sex was. It seemed to work, the more she whispered to him the more intense and focused he got, pouring all of his considerable talent and energy on her clit.

Heat started to build deep inside her as her body started to throb with growing pleasure. He had her held tight to his mouth, ass off the floor and legs spread wide. When it started to border on too intense she tried to wiggle away to relieve the pressure he growled at her, keeping her right where he wanted her. 

She was aching for a release. "Please," she whimpered. She hadn't actually intended to beg, but that was what he did to her. “Please, don't stop. Don't stop." Her body arched and started to clench. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she held her to him. "Don't stop, don't stop. I'm coming, I'm coming." She shook, riding the waves of her climax as they poured through her, over and over, in time with the flick of his tongue.

He lifted his head enough to press a smacking kiss into the skin on her inner thigh. When she finally looked down at him again, he was watching her with a silly grin. "Was that grateful enough?"

"Mmm. I feel thoroughly thanked." She stretched out all four limbs, feeling blissed out and languid.

He kissed below her navel. "I love doing that."

She stroked his hair gently. "You do it well." 

He caught her hand and kissed her wrist. Then he crawled up her so he could kiss her mouth. She held him to her, opening her mouth to the kiss. He kept it slow, almost tender, as his hands roamed her. After stroking and shaping her breast, he tugged the satin of her bra cup down, so he could slide his hand inside.

Most men she'd been with had had a favorite part. Breast men, ass men, leg men. Steve's favorite part seemed to literally be whatever part he was touching at the time.

When he had teased her nipple to a hard, aching peak, making heat and need pound in her belly, she broke the kiss to mumble, "Has it been five minutes yet?"

"More than," he replied. "Just waitin' on you, honey."

She kissed him, sucking on his lower lip. "Fuck me. I need it."

"Really? That wasn't enough?" He was baiting her.

Two could play that game. She'd learned his buttons almost as well as he had hers. "I need your cock," she told him, trailing kissed along his jaw. "Inside me. Stretching me. Pounding into me." She nipped his earlobe, harder than she would have with another man, but she wanted him to feel it. "You can have me on my knees again if you want."

His hand squeezed on her breast. "Not a half bad idea. Turn over."

Grinning, she obeyed, rolling onto her stomach and pulling her knees up to lift her hips and ass. "Perfect," he whispered, running his hands down her spine and over her hips before thrusting into her.

She moaned, rocking forward with the force of it. "Fuck, yes." At this angle he felt huge, stretching her pleasantly. He held her hips firmly as he started to move and she braced herself on he elbows, head bowed, lost in the sensation.

He told her how gorgeous she was, how good she felt, his voice getting a rough, harsh edge to it. Like he had only the barest leash on his self-control. Which was exactly the time she liked to push a little more. "Harder," she moaned. Shifting her legs, she opened herself wider for him, so he stroked deeper. She cried out at how good it felt. "Fuck me. I won't break."

If he put too much of his strength into it, he _could_ hurt her. She knew that. He knew that. Somehow that made it hotter to egg him on. To flirt with that kind of danger. And he did fuck her harder, enough she had to dig her hands into the carpet and push back against him. She lifted her head, and found herself looking at the floor to ceiling windows that lined his living room wall. There was an impressive skyline beyond, but at the moment the light inside against the dark outside turned the glass into a mirror, and she could see them.

They made a hell off a sight. Her flushed, hair wild, face a mask of unhidden pleasure. He looked every bit the Greek God behind her, driving into her again and again, face intent and almost feral. That look, the way he looked down at her as if he wanted to eat her alive, tipped her over the edge.

She cried out as the first spasms of pleasure shook her. "Don't stop," she begged. She didn't want him to freeze, thinking it would be easier on her. She wanted this to last, to wring every bit of bliss out of it. "Don't stop. Make me come." Then she couldn't talk, could form words, could only whimper and gasp as her body stiffened and shuddered. He followed orders—moving faster, even, chasing his own pleasure. As she shook he bent over her, and she felt teeth on the back of her neck. He sucked on her skin hard enough to leave a mark, muffling the desperate sound he made, and then his orgasm crashed into hers. 

He held her up as he rode his out. Then his fingers loosened and she slumped, limp onto the carpet. He followed her, face buried in her hair, a hot heavy blanket pinning her down to the floor. "Holy shit," he mumbled, clearly trying to catch his breath.

Had _she_ been able to breathe, she would have laughed. As it was all she could manage was a nod and a vague pat on his hip. Eventually he shifted off her and onto his side, sprawling out next to her like it was normal to lay naked in the middle of his living room carpet. He rubbed her back. "You have brilliant ideas."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I do. Top of my class, you know."

His fingers trailed along her spine and over her ass. "Come to bed?"

There was no training tomorrow, only travel. Changing her train schedule should be a piece of cake. So she shifted to look at him and smiled. "Can I get a lift? I don't think my legs work."

He grinned, like that was exactly what he wanted. He turned her over and scooped her up, and then stood in one graceful motion. It was a display of coordination and strength that she found very hot.

She curled her arms over his shoulders and swung her legs, feeling very much like the heroine from a romance novel. "Show off," she murmured affectionately, voice deep with arousal.

"I'm conserving your energy," he told her. "We've got a long night."

Heat filled her as he started towards the back of the apartment. "Promise?"


End file.
